


Some Days

by GlassRose



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3522953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassRose/pseuds/GlassRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days he can sing Bonnie Tyler while gutting HYDRA agents. Some days it's a struggle to get out of bed, but he still guts bad guys and tries to put a bounce in his step. Other days he cannot get up, no matter how much the white box urges him to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Days

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for severe depression and mental breakdowns. Unbetaed. I wrote this at midnight.
> 
> I do not own the characters but as the author of the story I do not want this posted anywhere else without my explicit permission.

Some days he can sing Bonnie Tyler while gutting HYDRA agents. Some days it's a struggle to get out of bed, but he still guts bad guys and tries to put a bounce in his step. Other days he cannot get up, no matter how much the yellow box urges him to. Fatigue saturates his pain-ridden body, healing factor be damned. Those days, Wade feels glued to the bed and tries to sleep, usually to no avail. Sometimes he hopes that someone will rescue him, but no one ever does.

He had been optimistic that Spider-Man actually calling him a friend would change things. That he could be happy now. Someone with a good heart cared about him, so shouldn't that be enough? What's the point of depression and delusions when there's someone real who wishes you well?

Mental illness doesn't work that way, of course, no matter how much you may hope it would. And regardless, Wade is trapped in a feedback loop of misery, painful memories, and self-hatred. His body feels so heavy that he let the alarm clock beep at him for five minutes before he could bring himself to switch it off this morning.

It started with a nightmare. He asked in a small voice, "What are you going to do to me?" and Killebrew responded as he always does, "To put it bluntly, Mr. Wilson: whatever I want." Wade woke up in a cold sweat, afraid to sleep, afraid to move, and unable to shake the memories.

He dimly registers the sound of a door opening and closing, but if someone's here to kill him, they can go ahead. He has no will to resist right now.

A soft voice says, "Wade? Oh, hey. You weren't answering your phone. I called you five times."

So that's why Nicki's "Monster" verse has been playing in his head. It's his ringtone.

"It's three in the afternoon," the voice continues. Wade thinks it might be Peter, but then he thinks he's just hearing what he wants to. "Late night?"

Wade attempts to grunt, but it ends up being more of a high-pitched whine. Now he knows someone definitely is here because the room is too fucking bright, which means someone opened the door. He'd pull the covers over his head if he had the strength, but he's curled up around his pillow facing away from the door, and the covers are barely up to his knees. So that's a no-go.

There's a cautious hand on his shoulder. "Bad day?" Peter asks.

It would be polite to say "uh-huh" or something, but all that comes out when Wade tries is a sob. It's so pathetic. Why won't Spider-Man go away? He's going to lose all respect for Deadpool after seeing him like this. Wade hates that he's here, but he thinks he might die for real if he leaves.

The hand tightens. "Is there anything I—" Peter stops, and his thumb begins stroking Wade's skin gently. "I'll just…stay, then." He wriggles between Wade and the pillow, situating Wade's head on his thigh and tugging Wade's arms around his waist.

It's clearly a hallucination.

But it feels so nice.

No, that's not right…

It feels.

It feels and it isn't a bad thing, except that it's not real, and it never will be real.

"I don't know what to do here," Peter says suddenly. "I don't know if this is okay or not. I'm sorry."

Wade can't let him leave, not now. He tightens his fingers around the hem of Peter's hoodie and says, "P—please."

"Okay," Peter murmurs, and he begins stroking Wade's temple with one hand, which is calming and, if Wade lets it, is helping redirect his attention from the bad memories. He's even beginning to believe this is actually happening.

Time is starting to have meaning again now that the sunlight is coming through the bedroom window, but it's not until the shadows are getting longer and the light dimming that he thinks he might actually eat dinner today, or at least ice cream from the carton before he crawls back in bed.

Then Peter bends down and presses a kiss to his forehead.

Wade is suddenly hyperaware of his body, of every agonizing inch, and every stupid horrible feeling that hurts so much he wishes he couldn't remember who he was and where he came from and it's all too much but he is _feeling_ it so intensely that tears well up in his eyes, and then he's crying, absolutely weeping as he clings to Peter.

It's cleansing, and he's angry, because he knows he'll keep having these shitty days, some when he won't be able to cry, but he tries to let himself be sad like a normal person, and maybe tomorrow he can get up and make pancakes and wear a goddamn cheerleader outfit and sing Taylor Swift while he chases bad guys and amuses the readers with witty puns.

Peter wipes away his tears with his thumbs and pulls him up into a sitting position. "Did something happen?" he asks hesitantly.

Wade sniffles and shakes his head, finding his tongue. "N-nothing new," he says with difficulty. "I—I wish…" He stops. Deadpool may have a reputation for talkativeness, but today's fatigue from depression and schizophrenia isn't just affecting his body. His mind is exhausted too. It takes him time to plan out the sentence. Finally, he figures out how to articulate it. "I wish…you didn't see me. Today." Ugh, that's not what he meant.

Peter understands, somehow, because he says, "I can't pretend to understand the battles you're fighting, but I liked you three days ago when we got tacos and played Lego Star Wars, and I like you today."

This is far more than Wade deserves, but he doesn't say anything because he's selfish. He's always been selfish, which is why he ended up—

He must be telegraphing his thoughts on his face, because Peter's voice cuts through his downward spiral. "Wherever you're going, come back."

He tries. He really does. It's just so damn hard. Peter's hands force his face upward, and their eyes meet. "I think you can get up. Let's get pizza, okay? And we can watch a bad rom-com or whatever you want."

His gaze is burning into Wade's mind, and Wade thinks he should just stare into the pretty eyes forever. It's better than what he's probably going to end up doing with the rest of his life anyway. Peter tugs him out of bed. "Come on, up." Wade struggles to obey, but his legs are weak. He falls against Peter, who holds him up with ease. Thank goodness for super-spider-strength.

The day can't really be salvaged at this point, but if he can force down some food and waste time on Netflix with Peter, it might be that much less shitty.

And hell, Wade will take it. He's not sure what Peter gets out of it—good karma, maybe—but he's glad the kid hung around.

It's weird being in love with such an upstanding person, but Wade's not sure he's ever going to switch crushes after this one.

As they snuggle on the couch (Wade's not entirely sure how this is happening, but he is not turning it down), Peter kisses Wade's cheek. It's probably meaningless, but god, it feels good.

 

Wade wakes up early the next morning and finds Peter asleep on the couch. He shrugs and starts making pancakes while singing _1989_. Peter crawls out of bed as the third batch is frying and Wade is singing, "Got a long list of ex-lovers; they'll tell you I'm insaaaane—"

He's cut off by Peter pushing him against the counter and kissing him until the pancakes burn. When Peter finally pulls away, Wade stares at him, attempting to recover from the unexpected turn for the better his life has just taken.

Peter smiles awkwardly and finishes, "And I'll write your name?"


End file.
